


Silencing Charms

by deirdre_aithne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2019-10-27 22:25:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17775356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deirdre_aithne/pseuds/deirdre_aithne
Summary: The scratching was unbearable.  More so were the keening sounds that slipped through even the strongest Silencing Charms, in the end.





	Silencing Charms

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I do not own or claim to own any characters, settings, locations, etc. from Harry Potter. All borrowed aspects of the above fandom are used purely for entertainment in a fanwork, and will be returned to their proper fandom and owners scratch, dent, and injury-free.

The scratching was unbearable. More so were the keening sounds that slipped through even the strongest Silencing Charms, in the end. They never seemed to last that long, anymore, though why that was, Draco couldn't understand. Maybe it was his imagination, and the charms had never failed at all, but he doubted that was the case. It made him feel as though his grip on reality and sanity was slipping, to think of it that way. And perhaps it was – if he were honest with himself, any other man likely would have gone insane several days ago, and for very good reason. But he wanted to believe that he was pulling through, maybe not intact, but as near to it as possible.

No, it simply _had_ to be that the charms were failing.

They had worked well enough at first, in the early days of the plague. It had taken quite some time for it to reach the Manor at all. Even once it had, the building was as near to a fortress one could find outside of Hogwarts, though perhaps that comparison was flawed, now, when the school had been the first place to fall when it all began. No, the Manor truly was impenetrable, or at least it was these days. More than one window on the lower floor had been broken in during the first few days, requiring repair and teaching them that every possible entrance must be reinforced. But once the glass became unbreakable, there was nothing left to do but stay inside and wait it out.

Except claustrophobia could set in fast when holed up indefinitely inside a house, even one as spacious as the Manor. It had started with opening a window on the uppermost floor – only one, and only by a few inches. Enough space to allow a small breeze to waft into the house and renew the air that had begun to feel stuffy and thick. When there had been no consequences, it had progressed to opening the window fully, and then a second, and a third. After a month, they had begun to leave the windows open night and day, always only on the highest floor. Out of reach from the clamouring bodies that still scratched and banged away at the glass and stone of the ground floor, they had felt assured of their safety.

Whenever the weather turned sour, the windows would close until the worst of the rain or snow had passed, and then would pull open again and provide a burst of fresh air once again. It also allowed in the sounds of groaning, but a few well-place Silencing Charms had put an end to that sound seeping into the home, and two months in, they had become comfortable. The creatures could not break inside, and they were more than stocked on food and supplies. Unless they ventured onto the lowermost floor for some reason, they could not even see the things outside, and it became a matter of simply waiting for them to rot away enough to burn whatever still remained.

It was the comfort and sense of safety that had ruined everything.

The more time that passed without any hint of danger to them, especially with the opened windows, the more restless they had become about staying holed up within the walls. Not that they believed there was a chance they could wander out onto the grounds safely, but the balconies on the second-highest floor would suffice. Still two levels above the ground, they had assumed that it would still be safe enough, so Draco hadn't argued over it. Instead, he allowed and even encouraged it, allowing the breeze that would waft through the Manor on good-weather days to flow freely through the large, opened doors. At times, Astoria would open them all on that level, and other days, it would only be the one she planned to step out on, often taking little Scorpius outside with her.

What they had failed to consider was the large tree that grew at one side of the Manor, the branches overhanging one of the balconies of the East Wing. Or perhaps they had assumed that it did not pose a threat – Draco couldn't remember any longer, as he sat with his head leaned against the front entry door. It had been weeks ago, and his memory had gone a little foggy in the time since. But what he did remember was the screams.

They had managed safely for more than a week before it happened. Astoria would open the doors and allow herself a few hours in the fresh air, with the protection of a Silencing Charm to ward off the sounds of groaning from below. But that day, her charm had done more than silence the groans, it had prevented her from hearing the clamouring sound as one of them scaled the tree. When Draco looked, after everything had settled, he was able to see the smears of blood and flesh and torn fabric it had left behind on the bark on the way up, but Astoria hadn't heard a sound of it.

She hadn't realized until the creature had toppled onto the balcony itself what had happened, and it took her too long to draw her wand. It was upon her within seconds, gaining its feet after a brief struggle and attacking her with single-minded focus, the open entry into the house of no interest with the lure of living, breathing flesh beneath its teeth. Astoria's screams had echoed through the Manor, pulling Draco from his study at a run. It was only when he neared the opened balcony door that he’d realized that another form had come running towards the sound.

Scorpius' shriek of "Mummy!" had drawn all of the attention to himself, and Draco and Astoria both found their wands in an instant, two powerful blasts of magic vaulting the creature off the balcony, throwing it out across the lawn, but not before it had managed to sink its teeth once into Scorpius' arm, tearing away a mouthful of flesh and muscle as it was ripped away by the spells. His young son crumpled to the marble floor with a wail, and Draco had stood in shock, looking between his son and his wife, who lay out on the balcony gasping for breath. His hesitation had lasted long enough for the pool of Astoria's blood to begin creeping inside, and Draco dropped to his knees where he stood, pulling Scorpius into his arms. His son had burrowed into him, his injured arm hanging limp at his side and his good hand clutching tight at Draco's shirt.

"Da'..."

The word had been muffled by Draco's shirt, but it seemed to ring in his ears for quite some time after, mingling with the sounds of gasping breaths from the balcony that only lasted for another moment before Astoria gave her last. Draco's breath had lodged in his throat and he’d let out a strangled sob as he pressed his face into Scorpius' hair, feeling his son trembling in his arms. It had taken him far too long to remember what was coming, and Astoria was already rising when he drew his wand, Scorpius lifting his face at that worst possible moment as Draco had knocked Astoria off the balcony, as they'd done the first creature together.

Scorpius had moved with unexpected speed then, scrambling off of Draco's lap and trying to move after Astoria, sobbing unintelligibly as he went. The loss of blood from his arm had been too much, however, and after only a few steps, Scorpius had stumbled, trying valiantly to rise to his feet again only to fall again after another step. He had finally collapsed with one hand stretched out towards the balcony rails and Draco still couldn't remember whether it was a cry for him or for Astoria that had left his lips on his last breath.

Everything became a blur after that moment, as Draco had levitated his son's body from the balcony and guided it over the edge, as gentle and caring as he could be with the spell as he’d let Scorpius' body settle far out on the lawn. He had closed the balcony doors, then, warding them the same way he'd done the windows of the lower floors, and done the same to every other balcony in a daze. Somehow, his feet had carried him downstairs, down to the ground floor of the Manor, where he had collapsed against the wall beside the garden doors.

He had fallen into a fitful sleep then, and it had been the scratching that awoke him, the sound just beside his ear as though there had been no charms in place to prevent just these sorts of sounds from reaching him, and in a fit of panic, Draco had scrambled back away from the doors and up the stairs as fast as his feet would carry him. But the sight that had greeted him when his eyes opened would never go away, nor would the sound of the scratching that seemed to echo in the empty Manor, now. Blond hair and silver eyes without the spark of life haunted him every time his eyes would close, until Draco had finally settled himself beside the door again.

Lifting his head up from the wall now, he turned his face towards the glass and saw him again, the five-year-old boy pressing his face against the glass as one hand scratched at the door, the legs of taller figures all around him as the other creatures tried to break through with him. Some of the faces were familiar, others not, but all that mattered to him was the face of his son, so very close to his own. The keening sounds and the groans filled his ears, from here, and beneath them all, he heard his son murmuring for him – watched his mouth moving on the other side of the glass, but these days, he could no longer tell whether he was imagining the word falling from his lips. He just as easily could have been trying to chew his way through the glass, Draco supposed, but then, his son was better than that. He would never attempt to eat his way through a door like that.

Draco's stomach rumbled loudly at that thought, and he frowned to himself. How long had it been since he had last eaten? Two days? Or was it three, now? Four? It was impossible to tell, anymore, when his days had begun to meld together. Sleeping, waking, watching; all of it to the tune of the scratching and the groans. Always trying to raise a charm that would take away the noise for at least a few moments, so that he could pull himself away from that door. But he could never bring himself to do it – he couldn't leave his son alone like this, because even with his wife standing only a few forms away, Astoria no longer recognized Scorpius. But Draco did, and even now, even like this, he couldn't pull himself away.

Scorpius' hand continued scratching at the glass, and without thinking, Draco raised his own hand to press against the glass, for a moment imagining that he could feel his son's touch. And then, instead, he felt the sharp stab of glass tearing into his flesh as the doors gave way at last. He didn't have the time to scramble back, and even if he had, Draco wasn't certain he had the will, staying where he sat instead and letting the glass shatter inwards and cut into his flesh. And then the creatures moved in on him, the smell of his blood drawing them in. His son was the nearest, and so the first to get his teeth into him, and even through his screams, Draco could hear the sound of Scorpius calling for him ringing in his ears. Pain ripped through him and he screamed until his throat was raw, yet death never came.

It wasn't until his son's face moved in front of his own, the sight of him so clear at first and then wavering, starting to become hazy and break apart that Draco startled away with a yell. Breathing hard, he collapsed back against the cool, stone wall at his back and closed his eyes, steadying himself as he just listened for a moment.

The scratching was unbearable...


End file.
